


Whitetree

by Morveren



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5550374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morveren/pseuds/Morveren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before the rangers head to Craster's Keep, you find yourself having to fight a different kind of battle.<br/><br/>[Jon Snow x Reader]<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Whitetree

You couldn't stop thinking about the dead man.

The wildling had been dead for three days, maybe more. It was hard to tell, the snow had done a good job of preserving him. But for the frost that had coated the surface of his skin, the man could have been sleeping.

One of the crows—you weren't sure who—had hawked up a glob of phlegm and spat it at the wildling's face as he passed. Another had kicked the corpse.

You, on the other hand, had kept yourself as far away from it as possible. The men of the Night's Watch might have forgotten or worse, _refused_ to believe, but you knew better. You knew what happened to dead bodies North of the Wall

That knowledge had kept you up past the Hour of the Bat, the Hour of the Eel, the Hour of the Ghost, until finally resigned to the fact that you wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, you had grabbed your spear and stood guard near the camp.

You paced, keeping your eyes fixed on the spot where the corpse had lain, straining to see that telltale shade of blue.

“Couldn't sleep?” you heard a voice say behind you. Alarmed, you whirled around, spear held aloft only to relax almost instantly.

“Jon.” Beside him was his direwolf, Ghost. His fur was so white that it was almost invisible against the snow, except for the red of his eyes. 

“Still guarding, I see,” Jon said to you. 

You turned back to the direction of the corpse, spear at the ready. 

“We should have burned the body.” You could just imagine that corpse: its eyes turning an icy blue, its fingers twitching, needing to grasp the warmth of living flesh…a shiver ran through you, one that had nothing to do with the cold. 

Jon walked over to you and though you didn’t touch, you could somehow feel the warmth emanating from him. Or maybe that was just you.

You felt the direwolf stalk over to you as well, lightly bumping his body to your leg. Once again, you felt filled with longing to reach out and touch Ghost’s fur, but you kept your hand firmly on your spear. 

You didn’t trust the direwolf yet, at least not that much. 

Gifted as he was, Jon Snow was still new to his nature. He was now fidgeting beside you; just small things, but enough that you noticed. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, constantly flexing his burned left hand, sneaking glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Got something to say, Jon?” You had the feeling that you knew what it was.

“We should stop this.”

Ah. 

There it was. 

Couldn't say you hadn't been expecting it. You held your spear tighter, though now it was less because you were expecting a fight and more because you needed it to hold you up. Your knees felt like they had turned to water.

“Mm…” You wished you had a better response. “Can I ask why?”

Jon wouldn't look at you. “I'm a man of the Night's Watch,” he said quietly. “I have sworn my vows.”

Yes, yes, those damnable vows. You never understood why the Black Brothers even had them in the first place; the dead that walked and the creatures made of ice wouldn't care if a man had a lover or not. They only cared about killing the man. 

“Funny how you didn't seem to care up until now.” Your voice was surprisingly steady. Beside you, Ghost leaned against your leg, as if he too, sought comfort.

But if you were honest, _really_ honest, Jon did care. Even from the beginning, he had this look on his face whenever you two slipped away into the dark corners or the way he would look nervously around him after several stolen kisses in one of the abandoned castles.

You had recognized that look: it was guilt. You just told yourself it was something else.

Jon was silent. Instead of speaking, he merely flexed his burned hand again. “What would it matter, anyway?” you asked him. “Think the Others would care if you stuck to your vows or not? Think that keeping your vows would convince the dead to lie back down?” You swept your hand in the direction of the dead wildling. “There's no magic in your vows, Jon. It won't help you in the Long Night; it was made by men, not gods.”

You took a deep, steadying breath, told yourself that your heart was beating so fast because of the cold. “Men,” you spat again.

“It's not…” Jon looked at a loss for words, he cast about the dark woods, as if the answer could be found in them. “I swore myself to the Night's Watch.”

“You swore to me, too,” you said quietly, and your heart, which had previously felt like it was beating too fast now felt like ice. “Like I swore to you.”

Finally, Jon stopped trying to avoid your eyes and instead looked up at you. “I know, I know that. And I do love you.” There was a pleading tone to his voice that you didn't want to hear. “Really, I do.”

As if to prove his point, he reached out a gloved hand to touch your face. The sensation of fur against skin broke what little self-restraint you had left.

You couldn't help yourself; you took one step, two, then you were kissing him.

You've never kissed him like this before, so unlike the soft, furtive kisses you had shared back at Castle Black. Always on the lookout for the slightest sound, ready to break away at a moment's notice.

This time you kissed him without a care for the other men sleeping just a few feet away or the direwolf that was standing near your feet or even the cold, dead man that you had spent half of the night watching.

You kissed him like you were never going to see him again.

Maybe you never will.

At first, you thought that Jon was going to push you away, but instead he held you tighter. His arms encircled you, holding you as close to him as your bulky clothing would allow.

When you two broke off, you were gasping, your breath forming small clouds in the air. 

“I do love you,” Jon said again. “I do.”

But to you, it sounded very much like a farewell.

“And I you,” you murmured. You touched your forehead to his, just the barest hint of pressure. The moment felt so fragile that it felt like any sudden movements would shatter it into a thousand pieces.

If it had been up to you—if you had the sort of magic that your ancestors had—you would have frozen time, then and there. Just a single perfect moment in a world gone wrong. But then you broke the embrace, stepped back to look Jon in the face.

_I won't cry,_ you thought to yourself. _I won't._

“I'll have to take Qhorin's wounded men back to Castle Black tomorrow. And you and the other rangers have to get back to Craster's Keep.”

Jon nodded and the expression on his face told you that his heart was breaking, too.

“Be careful out there, Jon. Don't let the wildlings or the Others get you. I'll wait for you at the castle.”

“You'll wait for me? I thought…”

“I'll find some other work near the Wall, guard the villagers from wildlings, that sort of thing. Maybe I'll even take up the black,” you joked.

For the first time that night, Jon smiled.

“I swore once to you, Jon Snow. And I'll swear again. I love you, Jon Snow. Always will. I'll fight for you, Jon; against the Others, the dead, even your own black brothers.” You waved your spear in the direction of the sleeping men. You took a step closer to Jon, so close that your noses were nearly touching.

“And I won't just fight,” you whispered. “ _I'll win._ ”

“I don't doubt it,” Jon murmured. “You're fearsome with that spear.”

“So no more talk of this, I'll see you back at Castle Black. Just…” you paused, not knowing what else to say. You have never been good with words. “Come back,” you finished.

A pause. Just as long as a single breath, but to you it felt like an eternity. Then, “I will.”

You smiled.


End file.
